The Theory Of High School
by Rac4hel414
Summary: Gabriella is a child genius. By age seventeen, she'd graduated from MIT, got her PhD from Yale, and researched with scientists like Stephen Hawking and Brian Cox. When her mother's company transfers her to the branch in Albuquerque, Gabriella is faced with her hardest research yet: high school.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I know. I'm alive. Shocking, isn't it? Work has been majorly crazy. So how are you guys? What have you been up to?**

 **I recently watched a series on Netflix called _Mr Young_. It was so bad, it was awesome. It was about a child genius who chose to be a high school teacher (I know...) So I wondered...what would Gabriella be like as a child genius? So I whipped this up over the past few days (mostly at work). It's not perfect. I just wanted to get your opinions on it.**

 **I'd also really like somebody to either cowrite with or who can help me figure some plot points out. If you don't mind knowing spoilers, please send me a PM :)**

 **Enjoy x**

* * *

Chapter One

"Here is your campus map, schedule, a list of extracurricular activities, and a list of useful contacts if you need help with anything. I must say, Miss Montez, we are honoured to have someone as accomplished as you join our student body. I expect you light will shine very brightly here at East High," Mr Matsui, the principal, said earnestly.

Gabriella took the folder he was holding out to her and had a quick flick through it. "You understand I don't want special treatment, right?"

"Of course, all the staff understand."

"Now, Gabriella, I'm working late at the lab and your father has basketball practice so-"

"Don't worry, I'm a big girl. I can walk," Gabriella said, trying to ease her mother's concern.

Maria still looked worried but her husband, Carlos, rested a hand on her shoulder. "You'll do fine, Gabi."

After hugging her parents goodbye, Gabriella followed Mr Matsui's directions to her homeroom. She stepped into the main hallway and was greeted by the overwhelming scents of cleaning products, sweat, and anxiety. It was disgusting. And yet, she loved it.

Clutching her folder to her chest, she began battling her way through the throng of students: cheerleaders huddling around a cell phone, skaters whooshing past her, and some intellectually gifted students exchanging papers. Gabriella had always refused to use the terms 'nerd' and 'geek' after being called them her entire life. Oddly enough, some people thought they complimenting her when they said it.

She tried to duck as some jocks began throwing a basketball around. Which promptly hit her in the head. Her IQ may be slightly above average but her reflexes were severely lacking.

Bending down to pick up the offending object, she fumbled with her papers, which fell out of the folder. She briefly wondered why she had chosen to do this. It wasn't as if she _had_ to be here, after all. But, as soon as the thought entered her head, it left. This was her choice. She wanted to do this. She needed to do this. For precisely sixty three reasons.

A pair of hands began gathering her papers and she and her rescuer stood up at the same time. It was a guy. And maybe the best looking guy in the entire world. Judging from the letterman jacket, he was a jock. And judging from the cheerleaders ogling at him, he was a popular jock. With her past, she hadn't encountered many attractive guys. Well, not guys her own age, anyway. So she almost had a panic attack when he held out her fallen papers.

She took a deep breath and passed his basketball back to him. "Do you always try to knock out new students?"

He held his hands up in mock surrender. "You caught me. My job is to ensure East High makes the worst first impression. Troy," he said as he held out his hand.

She shook his hand and nodded. "Gabriella."

"Sorry about that. My friend may be co captain of the basketball team but he has the social awareness of a toy truck. He just won't stop playing with this inside." He rolled his eyes. "Do you know where you're going?"

She glanced down at her paperwork. "Room 24B. Homeroom with Ms Darbus."

"Hey, that's my homeroom. Do you want me to walk you?"

"Yo. Hoops," a voice yelled. Gabriella looked in the direction of the voice and saw an African-American guy gesturing for Troy to throw the ball, to which he complied.

"It's okay. I think I know where I'm going. But I'll see you there?" She gave him a small smile and made her way down the hall.

Ms Darbus was a lively, over the top woman who chose to sit in a throne instead of a typical desk chair. If the posters in her classroom were any indication, she was a drama teacher. And a dramatic drama teacher at that. Gabriella took the empty desk at the back of the room which Ms Darbus had half heartedly gestured to and gazed around in awe. So this was high school. A lot of chatter, cell phones, and overall noise.

Troy came in with the basketball guy from the hall and a few other friends. He smiled at her and she had to reach into her bag for her inhaler to relieve the early signs of a panic attack. When she was confident her lungs were functioning as they should, she smiled back.

When the bell rang, the students slowly made their way to their desks and Ms Darbus rose from her throne, her robes swaying around the small stage like flags. Homeroom was a blur of names, activities, and times. As fast as Gabriella could think, she struggled to keep up. Glancing around, everyone was following. Not necessarily paying attention. But they understood what Ms Darbus was talking about. So this was how it felt to be a regular high school student.

She followed math and science like she was learning the alphabet, even correcting the math teacher out of habit. She'd been doing it since she could talk. Second nature by now. Predictably, Ms Baxter shone with pride when she recognised Gabriella.

However, she'd forgotten how much she struggled with English and drama. It had been a while since she'd read Shakespeare and suddenly felt as if Ms Darbus was teaching in Swahili, a language she had tried to learn but failed to understand the sentence structure. She knew that the language Shakespeare used was more to do with etymology rather than Shakespeare's choice, but it was still near impossible for her to understand.

At least she was experiencing what it was like to be an average high school student, which was what she ultimately wanted.

It was a bit of a blur as to how she found herself sitting at the back of the auditorium at lunch, but she breathed a sigh of relief at the quiet that surrounded her. Despite the anxiety, all the people, the loud noises, and the confusion, it was possibly the best day of her life.

She was about to open the copy of _Romeo and Juliet_ that Ms Darbus wanted them to read, when her phone began to vibrate.

" _Hey, genius_."

She rolled her eyes at her brother's voice. "Hey dumby."

" _And how is your first day going?_ "

She sighed. "There's a lot of people in high school."

" _Did you expect five seniors and a teacher…?_ "

"I don't know," she admitted.

" _Do you feel dumb yet?_ "

"In English and drama, yes," she said, although her brother heard laughter in her voice.

" _Good. Now you know how us mere mortals feel. Hey, I've got practice but I'll see you later tonight. I want to hear all about today._ "

"You mean how I'm questioning my IQ for eight hours straight? Sure," she joked.

Bidding goodbye to her brother, she tentatively opened her pristine copy of _As You Like It_. The words danced on the page, giving her a headache. It seemed that after every word, she was turning to the glossary in the back of the book. She could recite pi to one hundred and twenty five places and she couldn't understand a stupid play.

She was so tempted to turn on her iPad and retreat into the logical world of numbers and elements, deconstructing the Earth down to particles and atoms, calculating the rate at which the universe was constantly expanding. And, you know, using lasers. She could do it. She didn't have to feel this way.

And yet, she felt more human than she ever had. No one was telling her how she was more special than everyone else, that she was an asset to an educational institution, that was the greatest mind of her generation. In high school, she didn't have all the answers. She didn't understand everything in drama, and she was apparently severely lacking in social skills, too. At East High, she was just Gabriella. For the first time in her life.

So, she stumbled through the designated reading, jotting down what she assumed was happening, making a note to check the internet to see if she was right. Given her writing block with her current research, it was providing her with a much needed distraction. She was a hardcore advocate of distracting oneself to overcome writer's block and had been doing it her entire life. Which explained her enjoyment of knitting, stamp collecting, and a very short lived dance career.

"Gabriella?"

She visibly jumped at the sound of her name and looked up to see Troy standing at the end of the row with an armful of papers. "Oh, Troy, you made me jump."

"What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Mr Big Shot Basketball Man," she mumbled.

He smiled as he sat down in the seat next to her. " _Au contraire_ , I'm the vice president of the drama club. People want me to be president but Sharpay refuses to give up the title."

Gabriella frowned. "Oh. Sorry, I just assumed that-"

"I hated drama as much as you do?" He guessed the end of her sentence.

She slouched in her seat. "What gave it away?"

He chuckled to himself. "You looked like you were on the verge of a panic attack when Ms Darbus asked you to read."

That was because Ms Darbus asked her to read opposite Troy. She rubbed her eyes to try and avoid the fresh panic attack that was rising in her chest. "It's been a while since I've had to deal with...theatrics."

"You didn't have to take it at your old school?"

She shook her head. "It was optional."

He seemed to consider that. "Oh, well, back to my original question: what are you doing here?"

"Hiding," she admitted.

"From what? Or who?"

"Taylor McKessie."

Troy ran a hand through his sandy hair and nodded in understanding. "Let me guess: she's begging you to join the scholastic decathlon?"

Gabriella nodded fervently. There was even a note of fear in her eyes. "And the physics bowl and the chem club. How'd you know?"

He shrugged. "I've known her since we were in pre K. Besides, every new student is hounded by at least one person: Taylor for math and science, Sharpay for drama, and Chad for literally any sport. He once hounded a girl last year because he heard on the grapevine she was good at rhythmic gymnastics"

"And who do you hound?"

"I hit every new student in the head with a basketball. I thought we'd already covered that?" He winked at her. "If you want somewhere to hide, I know somewhere Taylor never goes. I was heading there now to practice these."

She leaned closer to read the papers he was holding up. "You read sheet music?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. It's quite easy, really"

Easy. Right. She could barely find her way around a Shakespearean play but reading sheet music was apparently 'easy'. She suddenly realised what Troy had implied: he could sing. And if he was in the same club as Sharpay, a very sparkly dramatic girl, Gabriella was willing to bet he was good. Neither Sharpay or Ms Darbus seemed capable of accepting mediocre performances.

"Anyway, I have to go. But, like I said, if you're intent on hiding, you're welcome to come with me." He stood up, still clutching his sheet music to his chest, heading for the door.

Gabriella hesitated for only a moment before she gathered her books into her arms and followed him. In the moment of silence, she chastised herself. It was her first day and she was acting like a lost puppy around the first attractive guy she met. To be fair, he was _really_ attractive. And he was being really sweet to her.

Yet, she had flashbacks to the couple of teen movies she'd watched in an effort to prepare herself for today. The jocks never hung out with the nerds, much less dated them. It was only if the jock got something out of it: a bet, a dare, a prank. It was never quite as simple as the nerd wanted it to be.

Gabriella frowned when she realised Troy had asked her a question. "What?"

He chuckled to himself, navigating the halls of East High seemingly without looking where he was going. "I asked you where you moved from."

"Oh, um, Connecticut," she replied with a frown.

"So why'd you move? If you don't mind me asking," he added hurriedly.

She smiled. "It's okay. Pretty cliche, really. My mom's company transferred her and so we packed up and moved to the other side of the country. I didn't really get a choice in the matter, being a minor and all."

"Ouch. Resentful much?"

She sighed. "I don't know. I'm proud of my mom but I had a life back in Connecticut, you know?"

"You'll build a new one here. Albuquerque isn't the worst place to be." He paused. "So what does your dad do?"

"He's a sports coach. Just taken over training the Redhawks at the University of Albuquerque, actually," she said absentmindedly. While she respected her father's work, it was of little interest to her.

"Oh my god. _Montez_. It all makes sense," Troy mumbled, leading her to a door in the back of the cafeteria.

"My name makes sense?" she asked slowly, following him up a flight of stairs.

They emerged onto the rooftop, surrounded by plants and flowers. Troy, evidently at home in this private hideaway, sat down on the bench in the corner, his voice now a distant mumble. Gabriella, however, was mesmerised. The colours were bright and almost addictive and the scent was overwhelming in the best way. Spending the majority of her life in offices and labs, she'd been somewhat neglected on the sensory stimulation front.

Then she stepped closer to the railing and had to fumble in her bag to grab her inhaler to prevent the asthma attack that the flower pollen was triggering. The view of Albuquerque from up here reminded her of another reason she'd insisted on enrolling at East High. You didn't often get views like this from an office or a research lab. There were mountains and fields, and she spied a river or a creek flowing towards the horizon.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded absentmindedly.

"Do you want to go inside?" Concern laced his voice, although she didn't know why.

Breaking from her thoughts, she finally turned to him. "No way. Sorry, I just got a bit overwhelmed. It's been a while since I've seen something like this."

"You lived in the city?"

"Something like that. Anyway, you were saying my name made sense?"

He shrugged. "Your last name has bugged me all day. I know I recognised it. Mario is your brother, right?"

"Yes," she said slowly, narrowing her eyes. "How'd you know?"

"My dad and I go to every Redhawk game. You're brother's a genius,"

"Genius," she muttered, taking a seat on the bench. "That's one word to describe him."

"By the way, pass on my sympathies. It's not easy having your dad as the coach," he joked.

Before she could respond, he'd turned back to his music sheets. She opened her copy of _Romeo and Juliet_ again, but couldn't ignore how Troy was treating her. Normal. Well, she assumed it was how he treated normal girls but she really had no parameters for comparison.

Either way, it was refreshing. And as she tied her brain in knots trying to decipher why Juliet would even want Romeo in the first place, she realised she didn't even care if this was all a prank. She wouldn't care if he ignored her tomorrow because for one day, no one had asked her to explain her information paradox theory or to explain Einstein's theory of relativity or, in one past excruciating case, asked to explain how the universe came into existence.

Troy hadn't treated her like a freak or like some saviour of mankind, both of which had always felt insulting and patronising.

Instead, he was studying with her as if she was a friend. And it felt good.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Well, I'm uploading this from rainy Scotland. Yay!**

 **Thank you so much to hopelessromanticgurl who had been a lifesaver helping me figure out this thing.**

 **Enjoy my lovelies :)**

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Chapter Two

Listening to Stephen Hawking's podcast series about the newly developed theory surrounding supernovas, Gabriella was enjoying the fresh air. Her first two days had been a success in her eyes. Ms Darbus wasn't quite as convinced considering how clueless she was in drama. But despite that, Gabriella was loving every moment. Troy had even continued being nice to her on the second day, offering help with her drama homework at lunch on the rooftop garden.

It was everything she wanted. And even though the other students knew she was smart, they didn't know how smart. The homework was like a vacation from her usual studies so much so that she felt like she was handing doodles in to her teachers.

Aside from Troy, she hadn't really made many friends. Taylor McKessie was still pestering her to join the academic clubs and she still refused. Sharpay, president of the drama club and one of Troy's friends, had interrogated her during the independent study Ms Darbus had assigned to them. Gabriella honestly felt like the sparkly girl would handcuff her and hold a blinding light over her. Luckily she didn't, choosing instead to ask unimportant questions about her interest in Troy Bolton.

Because Gabriella didn't really have any interest in Troy Bolton. He was sweet and charming and, of course, nice to look at. But a relationship, even a hypothetical one, was unrealistic at this point.

The only person other than Troy she'd met that was calm, collected, and treated her like a normal human being was Zeke Baylor whom she'd met in home ec. Never needing a partner for projects, he was the only one with space at his work station. Luckily, he'd welcomed her literally with open arms and walked her through how to make a mean creme brulee, even though she'd never operated a cooker before. He'd been patient, but not patronising, he asked where she'd moved from, but not interrogated her, and she'd be happy to call him her friend.

But for now, she was merely enjoying Stephen Hawking's podcast on her way home from school.

She jumped when a car horn blasted beside her. She took one earbud out as she stepped towards the shiny pink convertible which reflected the sunlight so much it hurt her eyes. "Sharpay?"

The blonde grinned and lifted her sunglasses onto her head. "Yeah. Do you want a ride?"

"Um, I-"

"What street do you live on?" she persisted.

"Elm," Gabriella mumbled.

"I live on Maple. I'm practically driving past."

Gabriella sighed in defeat. Knowing there was just no arguing with a person like Sharpay, she turned off her iPod and climbed into the car that was probably worth more than her parents' house. "Thanks, I guess," she muttered, strapping herself in.

Sharpay lowered her sunglasses and waved a dismissive hand as she pulled out, causing a blast of angry horns as she cut off a minivan. She didn't even use her blinker.

Gabriella suddenly felt queasy and clutched the door handle as Sharpay sped down the street. She fumbled for her inhaler and took two puffs, easing the tightness in her chest. She didn't need to look at the speedometer to know that Sharpay was driving at maybe twenty or thirty miles over the limit.

"So," the blonde began, barely tapping her breaks at a stop sign, "how was lunch?"

"My lunch? It was only a BLT I brought from home."

A short pause.

"I actually meant the company with Troy," Sharpay explained.

"Oh," Gabriella whispered. She'd somehow hoped that they could bypass continuing the earlier interrogation. "It was...fine."

Sharpay screeched to a halt at a red light and pulled a face at her passenger. "It was...fine?"

Gabriella shrugged. "I don't know. We mostly talked about drama. It wasn't anything exciting."

"It wasn't anything exciting?" Sharpay almost screamed as she set off again, breaking the speed limit once more.

"Stop repeating me," Gabriella exclaimed, rubbing her forehead.

"You do know that ninety percent of the female population would kill to spend lunch with Troy Bolton? And that's including lesbians and girls with boyfriends," Sharpay pointed out, pulling up outside Gabriella's house.

Gabriella knew alright. It seemed high school girls weren't exactly subtle when it came to jealousy. "I don't know what you want me to say. He's a nice guy."

That seemed to make Sharpay pause and take her sunglasses off. "I know. He's one of my oldest friends. I maintain he should, by definition, be one of the biggest dickheads on the planet. Jock, a popular one at that, and some serious eye candy. But dickheadedness is not in the Bolton genes."

Gabriella frowned, contemplating what Sharpay had said. "I'm not leading him on, if that's what you think."

Sharpay smiled at the poor girl. "I don't. All I'm saying is that Troy doesn't always notice what's right in front of him. If you do have a thing for Troy, don't be insulted if he doesn't show he's interested in you."

Gabriella hesitated, wondering how much she should tell Sharpay. "Well, he's one of the nicest guys I've ever met. I do like him a bit. But, I'm not exactly in a relationship place right now."

The blonde quirked an eyebrow. "Recent break up or something?"

"Let's go with 'or something'. You know, new town, new school, new curriculum. I just have a lot of adjusting to do."

Sharpay nodded slowly. "If it'll help, you're more than welcome to have lunch with us. We don't bite."

Gabriella considered the offer. It would be nice to have friends, and a real friendship group at that. Although Taylor and Sharpay had been a little intense, they weren't being mean as such. And if they were anything like Troy, she'd be lucky to have them. She knew that if she were to start hanging out with such a large group of people, she'd seriously have to work on her social skills but that would come with time. For now, she was happy to be accepted into a social group at all.

"Yeah, that'd be...that'd be great. Thank you." Gabriella reached to get out of Sharpay's car but stopped herself. "You're friends with Taylor, right? Taylor McKessie? Could you tell her that I'm really not interested in being in any of her clubs."

Sharpay shrugged, putting her sunglasses back over her eyes. "Sure. But, why not? I've seen you in class. Why don't you want to be in the academic clubs?"

 _Because I already have two Master's degrees and a PhD and I don't think it's morally okay to compete in a high school club._

"My parents are scientists. They don't believe in using academia for sport."

"Most people don't believe in using animals for sport, but whatever," the blonde joked.

Gabriella got out of the car and waved the pink convertible off as Sharpay beeped her horn. Stepping inside the front door, she was greeted by her tabby cat who was, for the next few weeks, on house arrest until she was sure the feline wouldn't run all the way back to Connecticut.

"Come on, Stephen," she murmured, shutting the door behind her.

She paused, her ears trying to find some sort of sound but drawing a blank. Not surprised, she headed to the kitchen to pour herself some coffee and feed Stephen. She checked the mail and added milk and sugar to the shopping list on the blackboard by the back door. Grabbing her school bag, coffee, and a rather official looking letter from Stanford university, she headed upstairs to her lab.

Perhaps lab was a bit of an overkill. After all, she was a theoretical physicist. She didn't do many experiments. But, since she wasn't working anymore, her parents had let her convert the largest bedroom into a lab. She stepped into the room, bright with the sun streaming through the wall length window.

Leaving her shoes and jacket by the door, she sat down at her desk which overlooked the street outside. Tearing open the letter, the skimmed the contents, having to do so several times before the meaning sunk in.

Stanford University. Who'd have thought?

Stowing the letter in the bottom drawer of her desk beneath a pile of blank notebooks where her parents wouldn't even see it, she took a deep breath.

She may be a genius and a smart one at that, but her parents still enjoyed prying. This was one thing they wouldn't decide for her.

* * *

After dropping Gabriella home, Sharpay turned the car around and headed to Taylor McKessie's house on the other side of town. She muted the radio and dialled Taylor's number, putting it on speaker phone.

"Seriously, Evans? You know it's date night," Chad Danforth's voice on Taylor's number wasn't exactly a surprise anymore. After two years of dating, they'd more or less swapped cell phones.

Sharpay's skin bristled and she sighed. She and Danforth couldn't agree on much except one thing: Taylor McKessie was a wonderful human being. "I really don't care. I have something to tell Taylor."

"Come on, Evans, I never interrupt your dates with Zeke."

She paused for a moment, feeling tension creep into her shoulders. "You never interrupt our dates? You always interrupt them, even when we're…intimate."

There was a moment of rustling and then Sharpay heard Taylor's voice. "What did you say to Chad? He's throwing up in my bathroom."

"Great, you're actually there. I'm pulling up to your house as we speak," Sharpay said, gaining control of the situation once more.

"But-"

Sharpay slammed on the breaks in front of Taylor's house. "Are you two decent?"

She strided up the garden path towards Taylor's house, stepping inside without so much as tapping the door.

"Well, yes, but-"

Sharpay began climbing the stairs in her knee high faux leather boots. Perhaps not practical in the beginning of a New Mexico summer but they made her legs look fabulous. She burst into Taylor's room to find Taylor boxing up an unfinished game of Monopoly and Chad glaring out of her bedroom window.

"Monopoly? Now that's hot," Sharpay teased, immediately taking a seat at Taylor's dresser to scrutinise her reflection.

"Only because we're not animals like you and Zeke," Chad spat.

Taylor rested a hand on her boyfriend's chest. "It's okay. Just go for a run and calm down. I'll call you later."

"But-"

"Later," she promised.

Chad gave her a kiss on the lips and sent Sharpay a final glare before he left the McKessie household.

"Sharpay, I love you like a sister but you've got to start respecting date night. You know what Chad's like. I mean, he's uneasy this year because of graduation, anyway, and-"

"I gave Gabriella a ride home," Sharpay interrupted.

That made Taylor slow down as she put the boardgame in her closet. "What?"

Sharpay rolled her eyes. "For the resident Einsteinette, you're a bit slow. I gave her a ride home. I thought you'd be interested."

"Hell yeah. There's something not quite right about her," Taylor said as she sat down on her bed.

"Well, it gets even more interesting. She likes Troy but she's not 'in a relationship place'." Sharpay used physical air quotes, clearly unconvinced that Gabriella had meant it.

Taylor frowned and brushed a stray lock of black hair from her face. "What does that mean?"

"I assumed it was a recent break up but she said she needs to 'adjust' to being in a new town." More air quotes.

A pause.

"And you don't believe her?"

"Do you?" Sharpay shot back. "She even said she won't join your clubs-"

"Teams," Taylor corrected absentmindedly.

Sharpay continued as if Taylor hadn't opened her mouth, "- becuase her parents don't believe in using academia for sport."

"What?"

The blonde quirked an eyebrow. "Exactly. Did you find out where she moved from?"

"Troy said Connecticut but the dumby that he is didn't press this issue. He started rambling about the Redhawks again," she muttered.

Sharpay rolled her eyes. "Something's not right with that girl. Fancy doing some digging?"

"You practically read my mind."

* * *

With her earbuds blasting music in her ears, Gabriella went running through the neighbourhood, a route she had memorised the first time they all viewed the house. That was a lifetime ago.

Now, it was a daily routine. Or bi-daily, depending how motivated she was. After a long day at school, an empty house, and the letter from Stanford, a run was just what she needed. Gravity pulling her feet onto the sidewalk, her heart pumping blood at an accelerated rate through her veins and arteries, and the endorphins travelling to her brain.

Oh, those wonderful endorphins. They masked the throbbing pain in her calves and made her feel good. And she did feel good.

She knew that a lot of people used running as a time to think and process events and information. It made sense. Just you and the wind, the odd passing car, and your feet pushing off the concrete. It was the perfect place to think. Gabriella, however, used the time to escape her thoughts. Which explained why she chose to listen to rather intense metal music. Seriously, who could think about anything with screams in the bathroom.

Her mother didn't see the point in Gabriella's exercise regime, despite being a biologist and knowing the effects that exercise had on brain activity and emotional wellbeing. Her father, however, was thrilled that Gabriella got out of the lab. She spent the majority of her waking life thinking and processing information. She needed a break.

She knew Maria loved her. She just wish her mother loved her a little less.

She closed her eyes, blocked out the world, the wind whipping her ponytail behind her, the music screaming in her ears.

That, evidently, was a mistake because a moment later, she was falling backwards, her arms flailing in a rather unattractive way.

She landed with a bump on the ground, her legs up in the air. She felt grazes and scratches on her exposed lower back where her U of A t shirt had ridden up. "Ow," she muttered, bringing a hand to her forehead.

"I'm so sorry."

Before Gabriella knew what was happening, someone grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. She stumbled for a moment but then regained her balance and opened her eyes, looking straight into the eyes of Chad Danforth. African-American, wild afro he had somehow tamed into a hair tie, and atired in a rather sweaty basketball jersey and shorts. Namely, the guy who had hit her in the head with a basketball on her first day.

"Hey, New Girl," he exclaimed, shooting her a winning smile.

"Um, Chad, right?" she muttered, absentmindedly resting a hand on her lower back.

"I am so sorry," he repeated. "My girlfriend always tells me I need to look where I'm going."

She shook my head. "It's my fault. I had my eyes closed. Bad habit."

"I feel so bad, though." He seemed to feel the topic unimportant because he gestured to her iPod and asked, "What's your soundtrack?" Before she could answer, he was already holding an earbud to his ear, hearing the deafening screams of Iron Maiden. "Hardcore. I would not have put you as a heavy metal fan."

Sighing, she turned her iPod off, draping the wire around her neck. "It's my 'Forget The World' playlist."

"What other playlists do you have?"

"Well, there's 'Concentration', 'Heartbreak'. There's a lot of Taylor Swift on that one. 'Dance', 'Road Trip'-"

"I get it. You're organised. You'll get on like a house on fire with Taylor?"

"McKessie?"

He nodded. "She's my girlfriend. For some reason or another."

"She's the scholastic decathlon girl, right?"

"Don't worry. She'll lay off. Just give it time." He gestured to the parking lot down the street where she could see a cluster of food trucks in one corner. "Do you want to get a corn dog or some fries?"

"I don't have my wallet. Believe it or not, I try not to buy junk food when I go for a run."

"Where's the fun in that? If I get you a corn dog, you get me some chilli cheese fries at lunch tomorrow. Deal?"

They took a slow walk back down the street. Chad had, in his words, 'treated himself for having to deal with Sharpay' with a triple decker cheeseburger, extra cheese, with bacon. Gabriella felt like she was at risk of a heart attack just hearing his order. She had opted for some fries instead but he insisted she added cheese to her snack.

"Thoughts on East High?" Chad mumbled as he bit down on his burger.

Every so often, having an older brother came in handy. For example: boys' eating habits had never grossed her out. In fact, she'd been chastised on her own eating habits once or twice.

"Um," she muttered around a handful of fries. "I like it."

"Really? It doesn't want to claw your own eyes out for something better to do?"

"Why do you hate it so much?"

"Sharpay goes there," he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"So you'd rather go to West High?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow. Troy had filled her in on everything related to Albuquerque including the Wildcats' biggest rivals: the West High Knights.

"Blasphemy! I'm just saying I could live without her."

"You'd miss her."

"Agree to disagree."

And so, Gabriella had quickly found herself a running buddy. She no longer had needed to take her iPod as Chad's constant rambling ensured she couldn't think about anything much less her research in his presence. The topics included, but were not limited to, basketball, food, his love for Taylor McKessie, and his hatred for Sharpay Evans. Seriously, if he wasn't so whipped by Taylor, anyone would think he had a thing for Sharpay.

His presence made her runs somewhat pointless as he always insisted they grab a rather unhealthy snack on their way home, so she usually gained more calories than she burned. Chad bought hers and she repaid him the following day at lunch, now that she was welcome at their cafeteria table. She kind of felt like she was on some sort of probation but Troy told her not to worry about it.

"So Troy tells me Mario is your brother? And that your dad is the new coach of the Redhawks?" He spoke slowly, as if this was a state secret or a sore spot of Gabriella's. A week had passed since he had first bumped into Gabriella and it was the first time that Chad had ventured towards the topic of family.

"Um, yeah. Mario's three years older and my dad's coached at Lesley University, Southern Connecticut, and now U of A. Why?"

"Is he a fierce coach?"

Gabriella paused. Sports was not one of her interests. And although she sometimes played with her dad and brother, she'd never been coached by her dad. "Why?"

"I'm going there. Hopefully. Taylor's helping me with my grades. But that's where I'm going to school next year. Troy, too."

"Troy's going to U of A? No wonder he was so excited that my dad's the coach," she mumbled. "Well, I don't really know his coaching style. I'm not one of his players."

"Of course not. It's okay," Chad mumbled around a mouthful of nachos.

"But I know he teaches a mandatory physics class," she offered.

"Physics? You mean gravity and E=MG2 and all that crap?"

"Well, it's actually MC2, the formula for the mass - energy equivalence. My dad doesn't teach that because it can't really be applied to basketball and therefore useless in his class. He focuses more on forces and theories of movement."

"Well, my science grades aren't that great," Chad muttered, avoiding Gabriella's gaze.

"Doesn't matter. My dad doesn't give assignments. He teaches you physics to apply it to basketball so that your throws are more accurate," she explained.

"More accurate throws means more points," he realised.

"My dad thinks he can one day turn the Lakers into a super team. Don't worry, my dad teaches using basketball scenarios. You'll be fine. And from what Troy tells me, my dad'll be lucky to have you."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"Have you called Mom?"

Gabriella pulled a face as she bit into her cheeseburger. "No," she mumbled with her mouth full.

"Well, she wants you to," Mario warned, pouring what seemed to be an entire bottle of ketchup onto his extra large portion of fries.

"Mom wants me to do a lot of things," she snapped.

A pause. Then, "You're almost eighteen. You should make your own decisions."

A grin slowly spread across Gabriella's face. "I like this girl." She turned to Lexi. "His girlfriends always stuck up for Mom and Dad just to get in their good books. None of them ever even noticed me."

"She means ex girlfriends," Mario said hurriedly.

Gabriella shrugged innocently. "I thought it was implied."

Lexi laughed. "Honey, we've been together for three years. I think I'd have figured it out if you had other girlfriends."

"I'm just clarifying."

Mario was older than Gabriella but had never been much wiser. Hence his long string of ex girlfriends. It wasn't his fault. He wasn't a player. He just chose the wrong girls who mostly used him for popularity. However, she'd never seen him look at anyone the way he looked at Lexi. Mario was a basketball genius, way more intelligent than the typical jock knowing four languages including Russian and Latin, and he would give his last glass of water to his arch enemy. Namely, any girl would be lucky to have him.

And yet, even he knew Lexi was too good for him. An astrophysics major taking a minor in aerospace studies with a resume packed with voluntary and industry experience, she was the captain of the debate and softball teams and, in Mario's words, 'the most beautiful person on campus.' She wasn't a cheerleader which made a change from his previous girlfriends and she was actually giving Gabriella the time of day. Dramatising nor belittling her achievements, Lexi was choosing instead to ask about East High and her favourite TV shows and movies ( _The Big Bang Theory_ and _Star Wars_ respectively.)

It was their first meeting, despite how Mario and Lexi had been together since freshman year. Both Gabriella and her parents had been impatient to meet Lexi, with Gabriella joking that he was dating a stripper and didn't want his family to know. But now she understood exactly why he hadn't flown Lexi to Connecticut to visit his family for the holidays. He didn't want Maria and Carlos to scare her off.

Lexi checked her watch. "Anyway, I have to go. I've got a pile of laundry calling my name. It was great meeting you, Gabriella. Maybe we could hang out sometime just us?"

Somehow, Gabriella knew Lexi meant it. "I'd like that."

"Are you at the lab tonight?" Mario asked.

Lexi shook her head. "It's booked solid for the next month so it's back to my own telescope."

"Cool. I'll be over later, then."

She leaned in to kiss him quickly and then stood up, grabbing her bag and cafeteria tray.

Mario twisted in his seat to watch her dump her trash in a nearby garbage can and then leave the cafeteria. He turned back to his fries, purposefully avoiding his sister's gaze. "Don't say anything."

So she didn't, instead focussing on her cheeseburger. A sibling relationship was complicated. They sometimes wanted to kill each other. And yet, they'd kill for each other any time. It was for this reason that Mario knew one thing for sure: she would've been tearing his ear off if she didn't approve of Lexi.

Finally, he met her gaze. "I know."

Gabriella quirked an eyebrow. "Come again?"

"I know what you're thinking and I agree."

Another thing about a sibling relationship: telepathy was a skill honed very early on in childhood.

Gabriella cracked a smile as she finished off the dreg ends of her burger. "I like her," she murmured, repeating her earlier sentiment.

Mario finally let a grin spread across his face. "I know! How cool is that girl? I mean, she is a genius. Not your kind of freaky genius-"

Final thing about a sibling relationship: no insult is taken personally.

"-but she can point to a blank spot of night sky and tell you all the planets and galaxies that are about a billion light years away. What can I do? Make a decent jump shot and and read Russian novels in their original translations. I mean, what can I do with that?"

Gabriella quirked an eyebrow. "I don't know. Teach literature in Russia?"

"I'm serious."

"Me too. Imagine Mom's reaction if I told her I wanted to study Russian Literature," she joked.

Mario frowned, looking intently at the lukewarm remains of his fries. "She'd let you."

"She wouldn't be happy about it," Gabriella mumbled, thinking once again about the letter from Stanford which was still hidden in her bottom desk drawer.

He didn't really have an argument for that. Their parents were scientists, driven and ambitious and they wanted their children to be as successful as possible. This meant that having a literal genius as a child was a dream come true. So while they were distracted by Gabriella getting her PhD from Yale, he announced he wasn't going to an Ivy League school so they didn't press the matter too much.

The downside was that he knew Gabriella got the short end of the stick.

"Anyway, I should probably go, too. I have equations and Shakespeare waiting for me," Gabriella said as she stood up, grabbing her books and her trash.

They said goodbye and Gabriella headed towards the main hall of the University of Albuquerque. It was pretty busy for a Saturday with plenty of students, visiting professors, and alumni. She thought about staying for a while longer to maybe check out the library or the science labs.

But she couldn't really be bothered.

So instead, she headed towards the main doors, thinking about all the reading she _should_ be doing for English and all the research she _could_ be doing if she didn't have writer's block. It was with this thought that she fumbled with her bag and heavy textbooks to bring her cell phone out of her jeans pocket.

Mario's words repeated in her head: _She wants you to._

Closely followed by Lexi's defense: _You should make your own decisions._

Sighing, she dialled Maria's cell phone and heard the persistent ringing. "Hi Mom."

" _How did it go?_ "

"It was pretty amazing."

" _We knew you'd do great_ ," Maria praised. " _How was Mario?_ "

"Fine."

" _Did you tell him to call me?_ "

She thought about their conversation in the cafeteria. Now that the Montez's were all in one town, Maria was under some sort of illusion that Mario would move back in, have dinner as a family every night, and listen to their thoughts on Master degrees from Ivy League schools. Unfortunately for Maria, Mario wasn't willing to give up the life he'd built for himself. He might only be a junior in college, but he had his own place, a part time job alongside his studies, and a girlfriend. Gabriella knew before they'd moved that he wasn't going to give it all up that easily.

"Kind of."

" _I swear that boy will be the end of_ -"

Gabriella didn't hear the rest of her reply because she'd walked into someone, making all of her things clatter to the floor. She crouched down and grabbed her phone.

" _Gabriella?_ "

"Mom? I'm fine. I just…" She trailed off when she lifted her head and came face to face with Troy Bolton. "I have to go."

Without waiting for a response, she hung up and dropped her phone in her bag, trying not to think of the interrogation she would surely get when she got home.

"We have to stop meeting like this," Troy commented as they both stood up and he glanced over the covers of Gabriella's textbooks. "Just some light reading?"

She laughed. "Something like that."

Troy was acting weird. Possibly because he had changed his typical round neck t shirt and jeans to a button up shirt and slightly creased black pants. Although, it seemed he was reluctant to sacrifice his Converse sneakers. But it ran deeper than that. She wondered why he was at U of A in the first place and what had happened to make his smile seem just a little bit forced.

"What are you doing here?" they asked at the same time.

Troy laughed. "My dad booked a campus tour for me and a meeting with your dad."

"How did it go?"

He shrugged, looking back down at the books he was still holding. "It doesn't matter. What are you doing here?"

Gabriella paused, unsure how to tell the truth without revealing her secret. "There was a physics lecture."

"Already a college girl? Impressive." He winked.

 _If only you knew_ , she thought.

Instead, she said, "Do you want me to take those?"

He shook his head. "I'm good. Do you want to get a coffee or something?"

"Gabriella!"

They turned to see a large balding man heading their way, grinning at Gabriella.

"Professor Holt, what can I help you with?"

He glanced at Troy. "Sorry to interrupt but could I have a word?"

"Can you give me a sec?" she asked Troy.

He shrugged, gesturing to the textbooks in his arms. "I think I'll just catch up on my reading."

She laughed and stepped to the side with Professor Holt. "What's up?"

Since moving to Albuquerque, she'd had several meetings with Robert Holt. Six months ago, when Carlos had come for his job interview, he had bragged about his daughter's accomplishments and piqued the interest of the head of the science department. They had e-mailed several times prior to the Montez's arriving in New Mexico about the possibility of Gabriella teaching at U of A and giving the opening lecture of a physics symposium.

It was flattering but she couldn't see herself teaching at U of A full time. It was a great school, great department with respected faculty. It was more to do with the fact her dad taught there and her brother was studying there. It all went back to her need to decide things for herself, no matter what anybody else thought about it.

Professor Holt grinned at her. "I just wanted to say how fantastic that lecture was."

Fully aware that Troy was in close proximity, she only said, "I agree."

"The students have already given amazing feedback and have a newfound enthusiasm for their upcoming research projects."

Gabriella couldn't help feeling proud of herself. College students were the worst to lecture. Half of them didn't want to be there and the other half were texting. But by some miracle, the students at today's lecture seemed genuinely interested. "That's always a good thing."

"Perhaps you can come back in a couple of weeks to discuss September?"

His round face looked so hopeful he might as well have been a puppy.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

He shook her hand enthusiastically and waddled down the corridor.

She took a deep breath and stepped back towards Troy. "Sorry about that."

Troy glanced at her. "It's okay. Care to explain?"

They approached the front desk to sign out and headed towards the parking lot.

"That was Professor Holt, head of the science department." She paused, considering the weight of what she was saying and what she truly meant. "He's pretty, um, keen for me to come here in September."

"What's that like? For a school to want you, I mean."

She frowned, willingly following him towards his truck on the far side of the lot. "My dad doesn't want you on the team?"

"What? Oh, sure he does. The meeting went really well today. I just…" He trailed off as they climbed into his beat up truck and he looked down at Gabriella's books again. "I got the impression he was only excited because of my name."

"Your name?"

He shrugged. "My dad and uncle were Redhawks, my cousin, too. And my gramps. It's a Bolton thing."

"Oh, so you're a legacy," Gabriella realised, remembering Mario mumble something about the importance of legacies at college. Basically your name got you where you wanted to go within your family's alma mater: admissions, sororities and fraternities, and any team or society.

He nodded, showing no sign of starting the truck or driving to a coffee shop like he'd suggested. "I guess. I'm not belittling your dad as a coach. He's very talented and his scientific approach is inspired, even if I don't understand it. But he hasn't seen me play, so how does he know I'm any good?"

Gabriella was silent, wanting to defend her father and reassure Troy, but what could she say?

Before she could say anything, Troy handed her books back to her and turned the key, making the engine roar to life. He barely looked out of the rearview mirror as he reversed out of his spot, reminding Gabriella of Sharpay's driving habits.

Troy was quiet as he left the U of A parking lot and headed towards the outskirts of Albuquerque. Gabriella didn't question him, assuming he wouldn't murder her, and somehow knowing that he needed some quiet time.

The radio was blaring out Bon Jovi classics. But Troy didn't seem to be paying attention. Much like he didn't seem to be paying attention to the road, choosing to go past a stop sign and through a red light. Luckily traffic on that part of town was minimal.

Gabriella just sat there, nursing her books and bag. She thought about doing some reading but that would probably make Troy feel worse. So instead, she gazed out of the passenger window at the blur of greenery passing by. She knew it was the same landscape she'd seen from East High's roof on her first day with Troy. But now it was different.

The longer Troy didn't speak and the more he wasn't acting like himself, the more Gabriella felt her chest tighten. She closed her eyes, shutting out the scenery, the loud radio, and Troy's silence.

It was bizarre and it fascinated many of her colleagues. She could stand up on stage and give a lecture to hundreds of people of various ages without so much as butterflies in her stomach. Yet, it was the personal one-on-one interactions that reminded her lungs that she had asthma and social anxiety, which was never a good combination.

It just turned out that Troy was the cause of most of her panic attacks these days.

Feeling her chest tighten a little too much for comfort, she opened her eyes and dropped her pristine textbooks to the floor of the truck. She began rummaging through her bag, pushing aside her iPad, book, notepad, and diary. She dug beneath her band aids, antihistamine pills, and travel sickness medication. She found her cell phone at the bottom along with her preventer inhaler which wasn't much use to her now.

There was no way she didn't have her reliever inhaler. She had three on the go at any one time: one at home, one in her bag, and a spare in case one ran out. She never took it out of her bag; it had to be there. Of course, the more she repeated that thought to herself and the longer she couldn't find the inhaler, the harder it was for her to breathe.

Eventually, she hit Troy's arm, getting his attention. He seemed to visibly focus in on the present and more or less slammed on the brakes, steering into the side of the road.

"What's wrong?" he asked calmly, although she guessed it was more an attempt to keep her calm.

"Need...blue...inhaler," she gasped, more or less throwing her bag at him.

He began randomly throwing things into the backseat while Gabriella tried to sit up straight and take deep breaths. Unfortunately, her lungs were screaming for her to lean over and take shallow breaths.

After what felt like ten years, Troy pressed an inhaler into her palm. She only glanced at it before she took two huge puffs of it. Slowly, her chest relaxed and oxygen found its way to her lungs.

After a moment, Troy said, "Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?"

She laughed, still breathless from her asthma attack. "I'm fine. Sorry about that."

"You're sure you're okay?"

"It was only an asthma attack. But I know they can be scary if you haven't seen them before." She began piling the things she could reach into her bag.

"What caused it?"

She shrugged. "There's countless triggers."

"Do you know what triggered this one?" he asked, concern still painted on his face.

 _You_ , she thought.

"It might have been the motion of the car. I get travel sick quite easily. I should be okay now, though."

"Are you sure you don't need a doctor?"

"Troy, I'm fine. You said you wanted coffee."

Troy didn't look convinced but cranked the engine anyway, pulling off into the road. He was quiet again, but it was different. It was less tense, probably because she'd taken his mind off U of A.

After a few minutes, he pulled into a field laughingly called a parking lot in front of an old diner. There were a few other cars, mostly trucks and scraps of metal, probably belonging to students.

She leaned closer to the windshield at the sign which read _The Five Seasons_. "Is that supposed to be a joke?"

Troy shrugged. "Maybe. It's been here since before my mom and dad were born."

Without another word, Troy jumped out of the truck, turning to the diner, seemingly looking for someone. Gabriella grabbed a few more of her things from the backseat and hopped down, walking around to meet Troy.

He was quiet as he lead her towards the door of the diner, absentmindedly locking the truck behind him. It was a different quiet again. It wasn't angry and it wasn't worry. It was something else she couldn't put her finger on.

Inside, it was all noise and sweet smelling food. It was evidently a favourite with the locals. And even though there were plenty of empty tables by the window, Troy headed towards the back, to a table near the kitchen entrance.

Gabriella sat opposite him and twisted in her seat to look at the dining area they bypassed. "What is this place?" she said, turning back to Troy.

He shrugged. "It's been here forever, like I said. I come here a lot. It's good to get away, you know?"

She nodded, picking up the slightly sticky menu. "I guess."

A large African-American waitress came over and grinned at Troy. "Mr Bolton, it's good to see you again."

"I can't stay away." He winked at her. He glanced over Gabriella's shoulder towards the counter.

"Who's your friend?"

"Gabriella. She recently moved to Albuquerque," he explained.

The waitress nodded. "Great to meet you. Count yourself lucky. He doesn't bring anyone here, much less someone new in town."

"Anyway," Troy said, quickly changing the conversation and glancing at the counter again, "I'll have a coffee, don't hold back with the cream, and plate up a few of those brownies."

The waitress nodded, not even writing it down. Gabriella assumed it was Troy's usual order. "What about you, honey?"

Gabriella looked back to her menu, trying to take in all the obviously unhealthy options and ruling out the ones that would aggravate her allergies. "A coffee, black, and uh…"

"Gabriella?"

She looked up at Troy. "Sorry. I just...I have allergies. I'm trying to figure out what I can eat that won't kill me."

She used a joking tone but Troy could tell there was truth there. "Rhonda, bring the coffees. We'll be a minute."

Rhonda left with a final smile and Troy took the menu off Gabriella. "Okay, what can't you eat?"

"Well, the big ones are nuts, strawberries, and gluten. I'm also lactose intolerant. But that won't kill me, it's just not very...ladylike." She blushed and shrugged. "By the way, if I ever go into anaphylactic shock, feel free to stab me with my epipen and call an ambulance."

He chuckled and nodded. "Duly noted. And I know exactly what you're going to eat."

Before she could respond, Troy had disappeared and she turned to see him leaning on the counter, talking to a blonde waitress. Troy said something and the girl laughed, using tongs to put several cookies on a plate. He then pointed in Gabriella's direction and the blonde glanced over at her. Gabriella turned back in her seat and frowned, trying to decipher the smile she'd seen on Troy's face.

He had gone through so many moods in such a short space of time, and now he seemed to be flirting with a waitress of a greasy spoon. Well, she assumed he was flirting. Having spent the majority of her career around people almost twice, sometimes three times her age, she didn't exactly have a lot of experience with relationships. Flirting could involve being punched in the face for all she knew. She hoped it didn't. But she didn't know.

Troy returned, putting the plate of cookies in front of her, taking his seat once again. "Try one."

She picked one up, inspecting it. "What is it?"

"Trust me."

She took a hesitant bite and a volcano of flavour erupted in her mouth. "Oh god. What is this?"

Rhonda dropped off their coffees and Troy's brownies and he immediately began stuffing his mouth.

"They're Lydia's banana cookies. It's all banana, oats, and raisins. I think she puts some sugar in it, too," he mumbled with a mouthful of brownie.

"They're amazing. And they won't kill me, which is always a bonus. Who's Lydia, anyway?"

"She's a waitress here while she studies at U of A." He paused, sipping his coffee. "Speaking of, can I assume you won't be a Redhawk next year?"

"Yeah," she muttered, staring intently into the remains of her coffee.

Troy paused. "So where are you going?"

She lifted her gaze. "Well, my mom is pretty insistent that I go to Yale. And I know I'm lucky to even have my name read by someone at that school. But I don't think it's for me."

"If you're not going to U of A or Yale, it's because you got into clown college, right?"

She laughed. "And I thought I'd hidden my unicycle so well."

It was this type of conversation that reminded Gabriella of why she'd developed feelings for Troy. He hadn't reacted at all when she'd mentioned Yale, just completely passed it by, choosing instead to make a joke. It helped her relax, knowing that Troy wouldn't judge her decisions, even if she had wanted to go to clown college.

"So where are you going? If you don't mind me asking."

She cracked a smile, pushing away her empty mug and plate. "Well, Stanford have offered me a place. And no matter what my mom thinks, it's where I want to be."

"That's amazing. Why would your mom think anything bad about that?"

She shrugged and laughed at the stupidity of what she was about to say. Millions of people across the country couldn't go to college at all. They couldn't afford it, or they had families to take care of, or other circumstances beyond their control. And yet, Maria wouldn't like Gabriella attending Stanford because it wasn't the 'right kind' of college.

"It's not Ivy League. My mom is a hardcore Ivy League advocate. She went to Yale, did her Bachelors, Masters, and PhD there and thinks I should do the same."

"But your brother is at U of A, that's not Ivy League."

"My brother's in a league of his own," she joked.

"I didn't realise you were under quite so much pressure. When are you going to tell everybody about Stanford?"

"I haven't figured that out yet. But I know my mom's going to be furious."

Troy reached over the table and grasped her hand. "You'll be great."

* * *

The following day, Chad wrapped his arm around his girlfriend. They occupied the bottom most blacher in the gym, the one place Taylor hoped Sharpay wouldn't look for her.

"It's so ridiculous. I get that Gabriella's not tell us everything, but I doubt she's hiding literal skeletons in her closet," Taylor exploded.

Chad kissed his temple and rubbed her arm. "I know this just as well as you do. But, as you've told me since middle school, you love her really."

She rolled her eyes. "I know. But she won't leave me alone. I have better things to do with my time than stalk the new girl."

Chad felt sorry for his girlfriend. She was the smartest, most beautiful girl he knew. And yet, her best friend was too much even for Taylor at times. "Why do you think Sharpay obsesses like this?"

She shrugged. "Honestly? I think she's scared of everything we're afraid of. But she doesn't really know how to deal with uncertainty. Has Zeke been okay?"

"Okay?" Chad repeated. "Honey, he's going to the top culinary school in the country. He's been on Cloud Nine all year."

"But-"

"There you are!" a shrill voice echoed throughout the empty gym.

Taylor buried her face in her boyfriend's shoulder. "Go away."

"I have something you'll want to see," Sharpay sang as she marched towards them.

"I highly doubt that," she mumbled.

Despite Taylor's protests, Sharpay thrust a manila folder into her hands. Gabriella's full name was printed on the front in block capitals and Chad gave a low whistle when he saw it. "That's one name to recite at the altar."

Taylor frowned at him but ignored the comment. "Did you steal this from the office?"

" _Borrowed_ ," Sharpay said, enunciating each syllable.

"Okay, why did you _borrow_ Gabriella's file from the office?"

"Look inside," Sharpay ordered.

Ignoring her tone, Taylor did as instructed. "It's empty."

"Exactly! Doesn't that strike you as odd? I mean, it's strange for any student but a new student? No transcripts or transfer paperwork?"

Taylor rubbed her forehead. "I don't know. Maybe paperwork has to be finalised. She's only been here a couple of weeks. I know this is bugging you but I have better things to do with my time."

"Like canoodle with Danforth?"

"Hey!" Chad exclaimed.

Sharpay rolled her eyes. "I also thought you'd want to see this."

Taylor took the papers and glanced at them. "It's a google search result for Gabriella."

"And can you spot what's odd about it?"

Chad glared at Sharpay. "Don't you have homework or something better to do?"

"I don't know," Taylor said, answering Sharpay's question.

Sharpay sighed, clearly losing her patience with the pair of them. "Gabriella is really smart. Do you not think a school would have commended her?"

Taylor glanced back at the papers, trying to humour her best friend's obsession. "There's a high school here. North Lake High."

"I already looked. It's from almost ten years ago," she snapped.

Taylor shrugged. "I don't know. What I do know is that I have homework, extra AP classes, a part time job, a family, and a boyfriend. Gabriella is a great girl. She's smart, kind, and can cope with your constant interrogation. So what if she hasn't mentioned her past?"

Sharpay looked shocked for only a moment before she composed herself, taking the papers back from Taylor. "Well, I was going to tell you a lead Troy gave me but you're too busy. Sorry."

"Sharpay-"

"I understand. I'll see you in class."


End file.
